


If You Wanna Be My Lover, You Gotta Get With My Friends

by fiddleyoumust



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:43:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleyoumust/pseuds/fiddleyoumust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Nick is rubbish at talking to people about anything of substance; talking about feelings is akin to actual torture. But he has to admit they can’t go on like this. It’s only a matter of time before he completely loses his mind and blows up at Harry – or worse, kills Louis in a jealous rage. That would probably put the brakes on Harry being in love with him.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or, the one where Louis and Eleanor break up and Louis starts hanging around so much that Nick starts to feel like a third wheel in his own relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Wanna Be My Lover, You Gotta Get With My Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [estrella30](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, Nan!
> 
> Many thanks to Ness for the Brit-pick and Erica for the awesome beta job. You made this fic much much better and I appreciate you both!

All joking aside, Nick really does love pop stars. He loves their fame and their style and the way they let people peer into their private lives so that everyone in the world can feel a bit of what it must be like to be one of those perverts who wander the streets and peep into people’s windows. Harry’s different, of course. Nick doesn't want to get all sappy and start shooting hearts out of his eyes or anything because that would be disgusting and emotional – two things Nick strives never to be – but Harry was literally born for it. Sometimes it takes Nick’s breath away, knowing that Harry is doing exactly what he was born to do.

“You only love me because I’m young and famous,” Harry says.

Harry’s drunk, which Nick adores because liquor makes Harry talk even slower than usual. His tongue gets beautifully tangled in his mouth. It makes Nick want to lean in and use his own mouth to tangle it up even more – probably not in the middle of a crowded restaurant in Primrose Hill, but Harry’s house is only around the corner. The possibilities are endless.

“I don’t love you at all,” Nick says. It’s a lie, but Nick has dignity – sometimes – and Harry has already seen him without it too many times for Nick to be entirely comfortable coming right out and admitting to Harry how he feels. “But I do enjoy a pretty face and everybody knows I’m London’s biggest fame whore.”

“Don’t forget gold digger,” Harry says as he runs his foot up the inside of Nick’s ankle.

Nick is appalled that a bit of under the table footsie is turning him on as much as it is. He makes a mental note to give himself a stern talking to about how easy he is for Harry. He’s never denied being a slag, but the lengths to which he’s willing to go for a bit of naked time with Harry is starting to worry him.

“Does that mean you’re getting the bill? Because I’m quite ready to go,” Nick says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that never fails to make Harry giggle.

Harry does, right on cue, and he’s just – he’s adorable. Nick leans back in his chair and bites down on his answering grin. Can’t have Harry thinking he likes him.

But Harry has Nick’s number. He always has.

Harry smiles wickedly as he dips his finger into a bit of whip cream still lingering on his dessert plate.

“Don’t you dare, horrible child,” says Nick, but he follows the trajectory of Harry’s finger as it makes contact with his mouth. He doesn't even try to hide the sound he makes when Harry sucks the cream off his finger. 

Harry laughs when Nick flips him off because he’s an awful little wanker. If Nick flags down their waitress and pays the bill himself while Harry continues to smile smugly from across the table, it’s only so they can end the evening as quickly as possible.

“I really don’t like you,” Nick says.

Harry shrugs like he doesn't have a care in the world and says, “Keep telling yourself that, love. Maybe tomorrow it’ll even be true.”

~~~

The walk to Harry’s place is short, but it’s freezing out and Nick didn't bring any gloves. He thinks idly about reaching over and taking Harry’s hand because Harry is warm and lovely. At that, Nick’s brain takes a nice little detour thinking about all the skin under Harry’s layers of winter gear.

Harry must have been talking about something requiring Nick’s actual attention because Nick is rudely dragged out of his excellent fantasy when Harry jabs him in the ribs and asks, “Where did you wander off to?”

“Just thinking about you naked,” Nick says.

“Oh, all right,” Harry says, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. “Preparing for the real thing, I hope.”

Nick makes an annoyed little noise and thinks, _fuck it_. He does a quick scan of the street. They’re alone in the middle of the night, surrounded by houses full of slumbering families instead of paparazzi with flashing cameras, and Nick really wants to kiss his hot, frustrating, pop star boyfriend – so he does.

Harry puts his hand on the back of Nick’s neck immediately, and Nick is delighted to find he was right; Harry really is warm. His mouth is soft and pliant, though it isn’t always the case with Harry, who usually gives as good as he gets, but for now he seems content to let Nick take the lead. Nick kisses him softly with an open mouth and a slow, lazy tongue and Harry melts against him like butter on hot bread. He tastes both sweet and bitter, like the bottle of wine they shared at dinner and the piece of pie Harry had for dessert and refused to share at all. Nick could kiss Harry forever if he let himself.

“We should get you home,” Nick says, stepping back.

Harry licks his bottom lip and nods. They start down the street again and Harry stays shoulder to shoulder with Nick so that the backs of their hands brush against one another as they walk. They stop when they get to the walk leading up to Harry’s door.

“You’re coming in,” Harry says.

Nick thinks it’s meant as a question but Harry doesn't say it like it’s up for debate. Harry didn't turn his outside light on before he left and the moon is hidden behind cloud cover. It’s so dark Nick can’t make out Harry’s features, but it’s so cold out that he can see the little puffs of air Harry’s breath makes when he sighs and finally takes Nick’s hand.

They’re almost to the door when someone says, “Oh thank god,” from the vicinity of Harry’s porch. It’s dark and Nick can’t see who it is. If he screams in a really undignified manner, he hopes no one judges him too harshly for it.

“Louis?” Harry asks.

Nick can just make out a figure hurtling off of the porch and attaching himself to Harry the way a gross lamprey fish attaches itself to a shark. Harry lets go of Nick’s hand and wraps his arms around Louis. 

“What’s the matter?” Harry asks. “Louis, what’s happened?”

Harry sounds so concerned, which Nick doesn't really understand. He knows Harry and Louis haven’t been as close the last year because finding a lover tends to put one’s friendships on the back burner. Nick’s heard Aimee complain enough about missing him to know how it goes, but he’s also seen the videos and knows the way Harry and Louis are when they do find the time to be together. They've been clingy and co-dependent and lovey-dovey enough to make millions of girls think they’re more than friends, so it doesn't seem completely out of character for Louis to creepily stalk Harry on his front porch just for a cuddle.

“Eleanor 's broken it off with me,” Louis says, his voice slightly muffled by the collar of Harry’s coat.

“What!” Harry says.

Nick doesn't think he’s ever heard anyone sound as indignant as Harry does in that moment. It makes Nick want to giggle hysterically, but it’s probably not the right reaction to the obvious heartbreak he can hear in Louis’s words. He stays silent.

Harry reaches into his coat pocket for his keys, which he then shakes at Nick until Nick reaches out and takes them from Harry’s hand. As soon as Nick has them Harry folds Louis back up into his arms and Nick supposes that is that. He’s apparently been relegated to butler.

He unlocks the door. Harry ushers Louis inside and sits them both on the sofa where they proceed to murmur at one another in voices too low for Nick to properly eavesdrop. Nick has no idea what to do about people’s sad emotions. When Pix breaks up with her boyfriends, he usually gets them both spectacularly drunk and then passes her off to someone else who will deal with the emotional morning-after hangover. Nick doesn't do tears.

“Shall I make some tea or something?” Nick asks.

Harry smiles at him and says, “That would be lovely, thanks.” The smile goes a long way toward making Nick feel less useless and awkward – maybe further than it should. He is really quite gone over Harry Styles. 

It’s a problem.

Nick rolls his eyes at how ridiculous the entire evening has become and goes to put the kettle on. He waits for the water to heat, watching the kettle for a few minutes before he feels Harry come up behind him, pressing his chest to Nick’s back and snaking his arms around his waist.

“Hello,” Nick says.

“Watching it won’t make it get hot any faster,” Harry says. 

Nick turns around in Harry’s arms to watch him instead. Harry makes a silly face and then leans up to press a light kiss to Nick’s jaw.

“I’m not getting laid tonight, am I?” Nick asks.

“Bros before hos,” Harry says. “Sorry.”

Nick wrinkles his nose and presses his lips to the pulse point of Harry’s neck in an attempt to remind him exactly what he’s giving up to stay sat on the sofa next to a weeping Louis.

“Heartbreak over hardons?” Harry tries.

“Oh god, your jokes are so terrible,” Nick says, laughing as he hides his face against Harry’s shoulder.

“But you’re laughing,” Harry points out. “You think I’m hilarious.”

“I think you’re hot. I’m only here because you’re young and famous, remember?”

“Oh right, I keep forgetting that.”

The kettle clicks off and Harry steps back to get the mugs down from the cabinet. 

“He drinks Yorkshire, doesn't he?” Nick asks as he walks to Harry’s pantry to retrieve the tea.

When Harry doesn't answer right away, Nick glances over his shoulder to find Harry staring at him with a faraway look in his eye. 

“You okay?” Nick asks.

“You’re a really good boyfriend,” Harry says.

Nick hates it when Harry is sweet and earnest because sweet and earnest makes Nick just as uncomfortable as sadness and tears. Nick is basically inept at anything that’s not flirting or pointless banter.

“I’m a good boyfriend because I know the kind of shitty tea your best friend drinks? Do shut up, Harold.”

“No really,” Harry says coming across the kitchen. “If Louis wasn't in the lounge room crying his eyes out, I would show my appreciation by putting my mouth on your prick.”

Nick makes a whinging noise and silently curses Louis Tomlinson to hell and back. He is a horrible little ruiner.

“I’m going home now,” Nick says shoving the tea at Harry and leaning in to kiss him firmly on the mouth. “You’re awful and I hate you almost as much as I hate your best friend.”

Harry only smiles at him, so Nick kisses him again, lingering over it this time, before he grabs his coat off of the kitchen counter and starts toward the front door.

“It’s too cold to walk!” Harry shouts after him. “Take one of my cars and I’ll come fetch it later.”

Nick glares at the key rack by the door and then maliciously grabs the keys to the Jaguar because Harry never lets him drive it, and although there is no good substitute for sex, driving a hot car is the closest Nick can get.

He drives as fast as he dares on the icy streets and makes an already short trip home even shorter. The car drives like a dream. It’s easily the nicest set of wheels Nick will ever drive, which only makes the disappointed, empty feeling lingering in Nick’s chest even worse. Turns out that even a vintage Jaguar is no substitute for Harry Styles.

~~~

Sundays are for sleeping in. Everybody knows that, which is why Nick is completely justified in killing whoever is knocking on his door at half seven in the morning.  
He looks through the peephole and groans when Louis’s dour face comes into view.

“What are you doing here?” Nick asks as he opens the door.

Louis shrugs and says, “Harry’s right behind me. He’s bought us breakfast and coffee.”

He shoves past Nick without so much as an invitation.

“Do come in then,” says Nick. He’s about to close the door when he sees Harry coming down the hall, his hands full of coffee and food bags. Nick turns to glare at Louis as he flops empty-handed onto Nick’s sofa.

He meets Harry halfway and takes the coffees from him.

“Your friend is rude,” Nick says. 

Harry makes a mad little face that Nick thinks is supposed to be disapproval at Nick slagging on Louis but ends up being sort of adorably grumpy.

“He’s heartbroken,” Harry says. “Give him a break.”

“Nope,” Nick says. “Heartbreak doesn't affect one’s hands. He can still carry coffee can’t he?”

“Don’t be mean,” Harry pleads.

Nick sighs and kisses him.

“Breakfast on a Sunday morning, Harry?” he asks. “You’re very thoughtful.”

Harry blushes and bites his lip. He shakes out his hair and says, “I was just worried about my car.”.

“Of course.” Nick nods solemnly.

He’s about to kiss Harry again when the door to his flat squeaks open and Louis says, “None of that! My coffee is getting cold.”

Nick is seriously thinking about amending his position on pop stars because as far as he can tell Louis Tomlinson is absolutely insufferable.

~~~

The Breakfast Show makes Nick’s relationships a little bit more difficult to maintain. This is especially true of his relationship with Harry because Harry is young and beautiful and busy being world famous while Nick goes to bed before ten most nights and falls asleep to cooking shows, waking bleary-eyed and alone at five the next morning. He’s usually been to work and home for an hour before Harry even rolls out of bed, and that’s when Harry is actually in London. Most of the time he’s in some other time zone doing things Nick will only hear about days later when they’re sprawled on Nick’s sofa and dozing together after some spectacular reunion sex.

Nick wouldn't trade his show for anything, not even for Harry, who is easily the love of Nick’s life, though it’s taken Nick almost two years to come to terms with that fact. The show is the culmination of all of Nick’s hard work. It’s his dream, the one thing he’s always wanted, whereas he never expected to have what he has with Harry. Nick always figured love wasn't in the cards for him and he was fine with it. It was okay.

Harry is a romantic, though. He believes in destiny and fate, something Nick can kind of understand when he looks at Harry’s career. His life these past few years really has been a bit like a fairy-tale, so Nick gets why Harry is the type of person who wants romance and grand gestures. Sometimes Nick even wishes he was the sort of person who’s capable of giving Harry those things.

But he’s not, and scheduling time to be together is simply more efficient with their busy schedules. He and Harry have a standing weekly lunch date on Wednesdays at the Pret down the street from the station. It’s about as romantic as Nick is ever likely to get, and when he’s in a particularly maudlin mood he can admit that having a routine, something he looks forward to doing with Harry every week, does make his heart get all stupid and fluttery. Nick isn't sure Harry even knows how much he looks forward to their lunches, but he’s still horribly disappointed when he bursts through the door of the Pret in a gust of snow to find Harry sitting at their regular table and Louis sitting in the chair that is usually reserved for Nick.

Harry looks up, smiles when he spots Nick, and waves him over, patting the chair next to him in invitation. Nick is torn between sulking over the fact that Louis is apparently crashing their lunch date and taking a moment to be happy that he can actually sit _next to_ Harry for once. Nick usually refuses to be one of those couples that shares the same side of a booth at a restaurant, even if he sometimes thinks it might be nice to be able to put his hand on Harry’s thigh under the table.

Nick sits next to Harry and says, “Hello, darling.”

“Moving a bit fast aren't we? It’s only our first date,” Louis says, smirking at Nick across the table.

“I’m sure you’re no one’s darling,” Nick says. He doesn't mean it like _that_. He just finds Louis so prickly that he can’t imagine anyone having the kind of warm, tender feelings for Louis that Nick has for Harry. But seconds after he’s said it, he’s aware how cruel it sounds in light of Louis’s recent breakup and wishes he could take the words back.

“Nick!” Harry says.

When Nick glances over, Harry’s brow is furrowed and the corners of his mouth are turned down in an angry little frown.

“Sorry,” Nick says immediately. “That didn't come out how I meant it.”

“It’s fine,” Louis says, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe we should just order.”

Nick happily offers to go order for them to avoid any more awkwardness. “I’m getting my usual,” he says. “Fruit salad for you, Harry?” Harry is as predictable as Nick is when it comes to their lunch routine.

“I’m going to have a pulled pork wrap, actually,” Harry says.

“And I’ll have the Buffalo chicken hot wrap,” Louis tells Nick. “We each want an order of macaroni and cheese, and I’ll take a bowl of three bean chili.” He smirks at Nick as if Nick is the one who doesn't belong. 

Nick is trying to keep his temper in check. He already knows he’s being ridiculous and doesn't need to prove it with an outburst. He doesn't want to remind Harry that he’s dating someone with the emotional maturity of a teenager – especially because Harry is an _actual_ teenager who tends to handle most things a lot better than Nick ever will.

“Living dangerously, Styles?” he asks.

Harry smiles and squeezes Nick’s thigh under the table. It’s more comforting than Nick cares to admit. He has no idea why Louis bothers him so much.

“Louis is a bad influence,” Harry says. “We’ve done nothing but eat take away and crisps the last three days.”

“Oh? Is he staying at yours?”

“Eleanor is moving her things out,” Louis says. “Harry was nice enough to let me hide at his until she’s through.”

“Like old times,” Harry says, smiling fondly at Louis.

Nick has never felt more out of place. Maybe Louis is right to look at him like he’s the intruder because Nick is definitely starting to feel like he’s the third wheel on Harry and Louis’s lunch date. He makes his escape and goes to order their food, but the unsettled feeling only intensifies when he comes back with their lunch and watches Harry cut his wrap in two and pass one half off to Louis, who scoops up a spoonful of chili in turn and holds it out for Harry to taste.

They spend the rest of the lunch picking things off each other’s plates. Harry never eats anything off of Nick’s plate. Suddenly, Nick is quite sure that the fact Harry doesn’t steal Nick’s crisps is a sign their relationship is doomed.

“Would you like a bite of my sandwich?” Nick asks because he really is that sad. He is apparently in competition with Louis Tomlinson for Harry Styles’s affections. This is his life.

“Harry doesn’t eat avocado,” Louis says as he reaches across the table and snatches up the last bit of Nick’s sandwich. “But I’ll eat it if you’re through.”

Nick watches his sandwich disappear and sighs. 

Harry squeezes his thigh again. When Nick looks over, Harry offers up a forkful of his macaroni. Nick isn’t all that excited about the macaroni, but he’s feeling needy and wants Harry’s attention so he opens his mouth and lets Harry feed him. Harry wipes a string of cheese from the corner of his mouth and Nick feels a calm settle over him. 

It’s times like this that Nick wishes Harry wasn’t so famous. Neither of them is deluded enough to think people don’t suspect or guess what they are to one another, but for the sake of Harry’s career they don’t flaunt it in public. There are times Nick would really like to be able to kiss Harry in the middle of Pret.

“I guess we better be off,” Nick says instead. As much as he wants to kiss Harry, he can’t.

“Thank you for lunch,” Harry says happily. Seeing him smile makes Nick feel a bit better about everything. 

We’re fine, Nick thinks. Everything is going to be fine.

~~~

Everything is not fine. 

Nick is three shots and four songs into his Thursday night DJ gig when he sees Harry fighting through the bodies on the dance floor with Louis in tow.

He’d been hoping Harry would show, but now Nick almost wishes he hadn’t. It’s hard enough finding a moment to talk at these gigs without the added annoyance of Louis taking up Harry’s attention.

“Fantastic,” Nick says nodding toward where Harry and Louis are progressing through the crowd.

Gillian arches an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“Are you and Harry fighting?” she asks.

“No,” Nick says. “He’s just been bringing Louis everywhere lately. It’s driving me mad.”

“Isn’t Louis the one with the fantastic bum? Where are your priorities, Grimmy?”

Once Harry and Louis reach them Nick can’t help but cast a furtive glance at Louis’s posterior. Nick must admit Louis’s bum is fantastic and Louis is in fine form, talking easily with Gillian and making Harry laugh. He even shows genuine interest in what Nick is doing inside the booth by asking questions about song choices and how Nick goes about mixing his selections. It’s the sort of attention Nick would usually eat up with a spoon because he loves talking about himself and his work and it is especially satisfying when the person he’s talking to actually wants to listen. Unfortunately, the only thing Nick does better than talk is hold grudges, and his annoyance at Louis’s existence wins out over his desire to babble about his job. By the time he leans over and tells Harry to “go dance or something, and take him with you!” he actually is annoyed instead of just pretending to be, even if most of his annoyance is directed at himself.

Harry looks annoyed, too, but he drags Louis off to the bar to get drinks. Nick watches them as the night goes on and they get more and more inebriated, hanging off of each other and giggling into each other’s ears until Nick begs Gillian to put them into a taxi just so Nick doesn’t have to look at them anymore.

It doesn’t stop there. Nick does a guest spot for the Saturday night time show and invites Harry to come along like old times, only Louis is there as well, throwing things and making Harry giggle the way Harry used to try and make Nick giggle when he visited during Nick’s nighttime show.

Nick feels a small sting of betrayal that Harry would bring Louis here, that he’d so willingly share an experience that is _theirs_ with someone else.

“You coming to mine after?” Nick asks because he hasn’t been alone with Harry in over a week and he thinks if he could just get a moment with him he would feel a bit steadier.

Harry flicks his eyes to Louis.

“Um, maybe tomorrow?” he says.

Nick feels like starting a row with Harry for the first time ever. He imagines how it would go, the way Harry’s eyes would widen and how his bottom lip would tremble with hurt or his own bottled up anger. The mere idea of a fight is enough to make Nick tired.

He doesn’t start a row. He just plays angry music for the last half hour of his shift and then goes home alone and jerks off thinking about Harry’s collar bones, of all things. 

On Sunday Harry does come over, but Louis is still attached to him like a conjoined twin. They spend most of the day making biscuits in Nick’s kitchen and bickering over the recipe until Louis starts a food fight, and then Nick spends the rest of his evening helping them sweep flour up off of the floor.

By the time Harry presses a kiss to Nick’s cheek and drags Louis back to his house, Nick is so frustrated he drinks an entire bottle of wine, passes out, and sleeps through his first alarm the next morning, which means he doesn’t have time to stop for a cup of coffee and is cranky and snappish with Finchy all morning.

“What’s the matter with you?” Matt asks. “Do you need to get laid or something?”

Nick throws a pencil at him and then texts Aimee: _Need emergency drinks. Meet me after work?_

~~~

“He’s always around,” Nick says. “When we went to dinner two nights ago, Harry played footsie with me under the table while Louis ate prawns off of his plate!”

“Aww, Grimmy,” Aimee coos. “You miss the romance.”

“I miss the sex. We’re like an old married couple with an annoying grandchild, and we have to carry it around with us wherever we go.”

Aimee cackles and says, “And you didn’t have an annoying child when it was just you and Harry?”

Nick rolls his eyes because he’s used to Aimee’s jabs about Harry’s age, and honestly, he can’t blame her. If this wasn’t his actual life, he’d be making it the punchline of every joke, too. 

“This is serious!” he says. “It’s been two weeks and he won’t go away.”

Aimee’s glass is empty. She snatches Nick’s drink and steals a couple of sips. 

“I think you might just have to suck it up,” she finally says. “I mean I wasn’t overjoyed when you started dragging Harry around on all of our adventures, but I took the time to get to know him and now I like him more than I like you.”

“Liar,” Nick says.

“He’s very charming and his abs are fantastic.”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen them in so long I’ve forgotten what they look like.”

Aimee finally flags down their waitress and orders another round, which is only fair since she’s practically finished Nick’s drink as well. 

“You’re being an asshole,” Aimee says.

And the thing is, Nick knows he is. He’s not completely un-self-aware, no matter what Finchy thinks. The problem is that he’d gotten used to having Harry all to himself. When Nick first became friends with Harry, Louis and Harry had still been solidly attached at the hip. They lived together, shopped together, and went on ski trips and festival trips together, and Nick was just a pathetic twenty-seven-year-old waiting around for Harry to give him just a fraction of the attention he gave Louis.

But then Eleanor had come along and provided just the distraction Nick had been waiting for. Suddenly, it wasn’t Harry and Louis anymore. Nick was the one who got to take Harry to shows and festivals, and it was Nick who let Harry move in for a month when he was between places. Nick got to see his face first thing in the morning and kiss him goodbye before every trip. And even though Nick knows he and Louis were never in any kind of competition, Nick still felt like he had won.

“I just don’t like him,” Nick whines. “He’s loud and annoying and he thinks he’s much cleverer than he actually is. He’s always trying to make everyone laugh – and honestly, I have no idea why they do. He’s not even funny.”

Aimee pops an olive into her mouth and says, “Hand to God, you just described yourself.”

“Hey!”

“Grimmy, I love you and I will be your friend for life,” says Aimee, “but if you fuck this up with Harry because of your stupid jealousy, I will choke you to death.”

“Kinky,” Nick says with a sigh. 

He knows she’s right. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.

“Talk to him,” Aimee says.

Nick is rubbish at talking to people about anything of substance; talking about feelings is akin to actual torture. But he has to admit they can’t go on like this. It’s only a matter of time before he completely loses his mind and blows up at Harry – or worse, kills Louis in a jealous rage. That would probably put the brakes on Harry being in love with him.

He pulls out his phone and shoots off a text to Harry. 

_Can we talk?_

_Rehearsals atm. Could maybe come by your place tonight?_

Nick knows how these things go. Harry won’t finish rehearsal until after ten and then he’ll loiter about with the lads because they may spend every waking moment of their lives together but it’s apparently never enough. Then Harry will have to fight through a crowd of rabid teenage girls to get to his car and won’t end up on Nick’s doorstep until well after midnight. Nick is old and he has to be up at an ungodly hour.

_Could you spare me a few minutes if I came there?_

_Always xx_

Those damn Xs never fail to make Nick’s heart do stupid things in his chest. 

~~~

When Nick arrives at the studio, Harry is in the recording booth. He does his best to stay out of everyone’s way and to avoid Louis. Turns out he doesn’t really have to worry about Louis because Liam and Zayn keep him distracted by running through the studio with Louis’s hoodie and tossing it back and forth in a ridiculous game of keep away.

If Nick takes a little bit of pleasure in how easily they’re able to keep the hoodie out of Louis’s limited reach, well, he’s only human.

“You and Harry going out?” Niall asks because Niall never met a piece of business he didn’t think he needed to know. 

Nick likes that about Niall and even shares his curiosity. But where Nick is well aware that he comes off a bit intense sometimes, Niall has an easy friendliness about him that makes people want to tell him things.

“Maybe,” Nick says. 

“We haven’t seen much of you lately,” Niall says. “I was startin’ to think you and Harry were having a row or something.”

“He’s been busy,” Nick says pointedly and flicks his eyes toward Louis and Zayn, who are rolling around on the floor and fighting over the hoodie while Liam laughs at them.

“Ah well,” Niall says as if that’s all the explanation Louis and Harry’s strange relationship requires. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s just something Nick is going to have to accept now that Louis is single again. But that doesn’t mean he has to be happy about it.

Harry emerges from the booth, smiling when he sees Nick. He greets him with a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth and yells, “Louis, you're next!”

Zayn releases Louis from a headlock and Louis comes bounding off the floor so fast it makes Nick’s bones ache. They’re all so bloody _young_. Nick suddenly feel much older than his twenty-eight years.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” Nick asks.

Harry takes his hand and they wind their way out of the room and down the hall to duck into an empty office. Harry boosts himself up onto the desk and pulls Nick between his spread thighs to give him a proper hello kiss. Nick wants to forget the talking and keep kissing, but he knows it won’t solve any of their problems. More than anything he wants to feel like he and Harry are back on solid ground.

“Back you minx,” Nick says, stepping away from Harry.

“What’s up?” Harry asks.

Nick doesn’t know where to start. Harry looks so trusting, sitting on the edge of the desk with a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His dimple stands out adorably. Nick doesn’t want Harry to be upset. He especially doesn’t want Harry to be upset with _him_ , but Nick can’t go on like this. He feels like he and Harry aren’t even dating anymore and he hates it.

“Louis is driving me potty,” Nick says because he is a firm believer in ripping off the plaster and because he often forgets to turn on his brain-to-mouth filter. Tact is not exactly his forte. 

“What?” Harry says.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you alone,” Nick says. “Oh wait, yes I can. It was the date we had right before Louis showed up on your front porch. We've not had sex in two weeks. We've not been alone in two weeks.”

“Are you being serious?” Harry asks.

Nick doesn’t say anything because Harry’s voice has taken a dangerous tone Nick’s never heard before. He’s a bit curious to see where this is going to go.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Harry mutters.

He jumps off of the desk and starts unbuttoning his jeans with stiff, almost methodical movements. Nick hasn’t seen Harry angry before because Harry doesn’t really get angry. He usually takes things in stride, goes with the flow, handles each problem as it comes to him and tends not to worry about the rest. 

But Harry is angry now and it isn’t fascinating the way Nick thought it might be. It’s actually twisting his stomach up, knowing he’s made Harry cross.

“Harry,” Nick says, trying his best to sound placating.

It’s enough to stop Harry’s progress on his jeans but his hands are still shaking with anger.

“You came to see me at work,” Harry says, “to complain because we've not fucked in a couple of weeks because my best friend is what? Cockblocking us? You’re such a massive knob sometimes, Nick.”

“It’s not about the sex,” Nick says. “I don’t care about that.”

Harry arches his brow.

Yeah, Nick does care. He likes sex and he likes sex with Harry more than he’s ever liked it with anyone else. It’s important, but Nick doesn’t want Harry thinking it’s all that matters to him. He misses Harry, not just the naked parts of him.

“Are you sure? I could just bend over here,” Harry says. “We could have a go and then maybe you’ll feel better. Wouldn’t want you to have to find it elsewhere or anything.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Stop it,” Nick says, grabbing Harry’s hands from where they’re poised over the fly of Harry’s unbuttoned jeans. “ I’ve made a mess of this when all I really wanted to say is that I miss you.”

Harry deflates. The wrinkles in his brow smooth out and he slumps back against the desk, pulling Nick a bit closer.

“He needs me,” Harry says. “Don’t ask me to pick.”

Nick doesn’t have to ask what would happen if he did. Louis is a part of Harry’s band and Nick knows better than anyone that Harry’s band comes first right now. Nick is grown up enough not to be offended, especially when he feels the same way about his own career. He’s worked too hard for too long to let anyone get in the way of his dreams, so he can’t resent Harry for feeling the same about the results of his own hard work.

“I’m not,” Nick says. “I just thought I would tell you I need you too, just in case you didn’t know.”

He presses his forehead to Harry’s and hopes to hell he hasn’t completely wrecked things. 

“You could make more of an effort you know,” says Harry. “I made an effort for you with your friends.”

Nick’s never really thought of it like that. Harry felt like a part of his group right from the beginning. He fit in with them from the get go. Hell, Aimee probably fell in love with him before Nick did and Pixie calls him up to go to fashion shows with her and doesn’t bother to invite Nick along. They’re his friends now as much as they’re Nick’s. He doesn’t see that ever happening with him and the rest of Harry’s band, not even with Niall who Nick actually likes. None of them are like Harry, but Nick can see now that it was a little selfish to ask Harry to be a part of his life while he refused to do the same thing.

“Can’t help wanting you all to myself,” Nick says.

Harry kisses him softly and says, “But that’s never going to happen. Like, even if I wanted to spend every second with you and you alone – which I don’t, and I know you don’t want that either – we’re busy people. You’d have to fight, like, a few million teenage girls at the very least.”

“They would eat me alive.”

Harry rolls his eyes and Nick thinks maybe the crisis has passed, although he still hates how much time Harry spends with Louis. Nothing has really been resolved. The only thing Nick has managed to do in the last half hour is give Harry even more proof of how totally rubbish Nick is at this whole relationship thing. 

“Just be patient with me,” Harry says.

Nick can’t help the bark of sharp, bitter laughter that escapes him. The irony of that request is not lost on him when he is the one who keeps fucking up and Harry is the one who keeps letting it go. Nick is left constantly wondering if he’ll ever manage to get better at being in a relationship before Harry’s patience finally reaches its end. The least Nick can do is try not to be a total wanker while Harry is preoccupied with Louis.

Nick kisses Harry’s forehead, says, “Of course. I’ll just –“

Harry kisses him properly and Nick is so easy for him he just melts into it. It’s a bit ridiculous that a nineteen-year-old can completely fry all of his brain cells, but Nick is beginning to realize it’s past time he accepts the crazy way Harry makes him feel. 

“I’ll come by when I can,” Harry says, breaking the kiss. “Soon, I promise.”

Nick wants to say, _come with me now,_ but instead he takes a step back and says, “Whenever you can. No rush.”

He can be patient for Harry. It’s the very least he can do.

~~~

It’s half ten and Nick can’t sleep. He has to be up in seven hours, but his mind keeps replaying his conversation with Harry from earlier in the day, and Nick can’t seem to make it stop no matter how much he tries. He putters around the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to inspect its lackluster contents before deciding to make tea and eat a few of the stale biscuits Harry and Louis made last Sunday.

Nick’s just sitting down at the table when the front door creaks open and there’s Harry standing in the doorway with circles under his eyes and his hoodie pulled up over his hair. He looks terrible and lovely and Nick’s heart rattles around in his chest like a present being shaken on Christmas morning.

“You’re here,” Nick says.

“M’here,” Harry mumbles.

He looks asleep on his feet so Nick gets up and meets him halfway, pushes the hood off of his head and digs his fingers into the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck as he pulls him in for a kiss. Their tongues slide together slow and lazy and it’s so good that Nick actually moans into it. He kisses across Harry’s cheek and presses his face to Harry’s neck, breathing in his stale skin and the lingering scent of his cologne. He smells so good that Nick actually feels tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“Okay,” Nick says. “Maybe I’m more tired than I thought.”

“I sent Louis home with Zayn and Perrie,” Harry says. “We have all night.”

Nick loves his job and he’s happy to get up for it every single morning, but right now his five-thirty wakeup call is a harsh reality he would very much like to ignore.

“We’ve seven hours,” Nick corrects.

“We’d better get started, then,” says Harry, pulling at the edge of Nick’s T-shirt. 

“Bedroom,” Nick says pulling Harry along behind him, and they bump into each other sleepily along the way.

“This is going to be a really lazy fuck,” Harry says. He sheds his hoodie, dropping it on Nick’s bedroom floor, and starts on the zip of his jeans while Nick digs in the bedside drawer for lube. When he finds it, he tosses it on the bed and turn to watch Harry inch his way out of his ridiculously tight jeans.

“Are you not joining me then?” Harry asks.

Nick’s still stood by the bed wearing all of his clothes, but thankfully that only consists of a T-shirt and a ratty pair of tracksuit bottoms. He manages to yank them off before Harry’s even got his jeans all the way off.

“Now who’s taking too long?” he says.

Harry finally gets his jeans off. He’s still wearing one sock when he crawls onto the bed. It makes Nick feel fond and stupidly emotional. He pulls the sock off because Harry seems too tired to do it himself and wraps his hand around Harry’s skinny ankle, rubbing a thumb over the jut of his ankle bone.

“Sleepy,” Harry says. His voice is thicker and slower than usual and the bags under his eyes are so dark he nearly looks like he’s sporting two black eyes. They’re both hard, but Nick doesn’t think it would be too difficult to convince Harry just to leave it for another time. Harry looks half asleep already. Nick imagines he could cuddle him until they both pass out.

He climbs onto the bed and intends to do just that, pulling Harry to rest his head on Nick’s chest.

“Where’s the lube?” Harry asks.

“It’ll keep ‘til later.”

Harry lifts his head and gives Nick an incredulous look.

“If you don’t fuck me,” he says, “I will never let you live it down, old man.”

Nick flips him off. “You’re half asleep, Harold.”

“You’ll be doing all the work, obviously.”

Harry flops back on the other side of the bed and pushes the lube toward Nick with a lazy swipe of his hand. Nick doesn’t need to be told twice. There is nothing he finds hotter than Harry when he’s being all cooperative and pliant.

Nick opens him up quickly, getting his fingers messy with lube and sinking them into Harry one after the other, not giving him enough time to adjust to the stretch. Harry is panting by the time he’s three fingers deep.

When Nick asks if he’s okay, Harry rolls his head around on the pillow and chews at his bottom lip until it’s red and swollen. Nick gives into the urge to lick Harry’s mouth, leans forward and kisses him messily, adding his own teeth marks to Harry’s lip.

“I’m ready,” Harry says.

He’s probably not. It’s been a while and Nick’s done a terrible job of prepping him, but Nick is tired and turned on. Of all the things Nick worries about where he and Harry are concerned, the possibility that Harry doesn’t know what he’s capable of, what he can take, isn’t one of them.

Nick wipes his fingers on the bed sheets before lifting Harry’s legs over his shoulders and lining his cock up. Even with Harry all loose-limbed and soft and half asleep, Nick has to go slow. Harry’s like a ragdoll spread out beneath him and Nick has to clench his jaw and curl his fingers into the sheets to stop from just pushing into him in a hard thrust.

“Fucking hell, you’re tight,” Nick says. 

He leans in to bite at Harry’s chin and Harry moans for him when the new angle makes Nick’s cock slide in that last little bit. Nick fucks Harry slowly while he drapes his arms around Nick’s neck, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. With every thrust of his hips Nick feels like he’s fucking Harry while submerged in honey -- even his brain feels sluggish as it tries to catalogue every detail. He wants to be able to dig them out and think about them later when Harry’s run off to sing to millions of people halfway across the world. 

That’s going to happen sooner than Nick wants to think about, so he shoves it away and focuses on the way Harry throws his head back and begs Nick to fuck him harder.  
Nick does fuck him harder because he wants to give Harry everything he asks for.

Harry digs his nails into the back of Nick’s neck in response and pulls at the ends of Nick’s hair, but he’s otherwise so passive that Nick feels he could do anything, ask for anything in return, and Harry would give it to him.

Nick wants to touch him but he’s not sure he can hold himself up with one arm and Harry is completely unhelpful, staying true to his word and making Nick do all the work. Nick pulls out and gets up on his knees, shushing Harry when he whines at the loss of Nick’s cock.

“Roll over, darling,” he says, and Harry does immediately. Nick grabs him by the hips and hauls him up onto his hands and knees, moving Harry around until he has him right where he wants him. He sinks back into Harry quickly this time. Harry doesn’t even last a minute before his arms give out and he falls chest first onto the bed, shoulders pressed into the mattress. 

Nick grabs the lube from the tangle of sheets, slicks his hand, and reaches around for Harry’s cock, stripping it hard and fast as he works his hips against Harry’s arse. They don’t last much longer. Nick feels like he’s chasing after both of their orgasms, but he finds Harry’s first and fucks him through it, squeezing Harry’s cock as he comes down.

If Harry was malleable before he’s practically comatose post orgasm. Nick can’t get him to stay up on his knees so he pulls out to finish himself off. He comes over the knobs of Harry’s spine -- Harry will complain about it later, but Nick can’t be arsed to care about that right now. He thinks Harry looks good like this, all fucked out and covered in his come.

“Come here,” Harry says sleepily.

Nick flops down by Harry’s side and smiles when he drapes himself over Nick and rests his head on Nick’s chest.

“Good?” Nick asks.

“Mhm,” Harry says. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” Nick says, breathing in the sweet shampoo smell still lingering in Harry’s hair. He falls asleep with his nose buried in Harry’s curls, his arms tight around Harry’s back.

~~~

Nick manages to get up and showered without disturbing Harry the next morning, and he’s amused to find Harry still curled under the blanket when he gets home five hours later. He looks so warm and inviting Nick crawls right back into bed with him and goes back to sleep even though it is quickly approaching midday. When he wakes again a couple of hours later, there’s a note by his pillow that says _Lunch date with Lou and then watching Lux for her for a few hours! Be nice while I’m gone!_.

He doesn’t know what Harry means until he wanders out to the lounge room and finds Louis sprawled across the sofa eating a bag of crisps and watching Nick’s telly. 

Nick watches a few minutes of whatever rubbish has caught Louis’s attention before he says, “What on earth are you watching?”

Louis jumps and the crisps go flying as he clutches his chest.

“You frightened me, mate,” he says.

Nick ignores Louis’s outrage. “This looks like a bad soap opera,” he says.

“I brought my One Tree Hill DVDs,” Louis says. “All you have recorded are rubbish cooking shows, and daytime telly is always terrible.”

“Don’t insult Nigella, darling. Especially not when you’re the one watching programs geared toward teenage girls,” Nick says.

Louis’s face gets all pinched and angry looking for a second before it melts back into his usual mischievous smirk.

“I can change it if you'd like to watch something else,” he says.

Nick has to wonder if he isn’t the only person Harry told to be nice. 

“No, it’s fine,” Nick tells him. “I should work on some stuff for tomorrow’s show. Would you like some tea?”

Yes, Nick can do this. Nick is actually a very pleasant person most of the time. There is no reason he and Louis can’t be civil to one another.

“Tea would be lovely,” Louis says. If Nick takes a bit of pleasure in the suspicious way Louis looks at him – well, he’s only human. Baby steps and all that.

When he comes back to the room later with Louis’s tea, Nick gets distracted by the lovely boy on the screen who is playing basketball and sweating profusely.

“Who’s this, then?” Nick asks.

Louis quirks an eyebrow and says, “His name is Nathan, and you soooo have a type.” 

Nick doesn’t think this Nathan looks very much like Harry outside of the broad nose and the dark hair and the being incredibly fit, but he won’t deny he likes young, pretty things.

“Is there a lot of this on this show?” Nick asks. “Running about in minimal clothing and being hot and sweaty?”

“Yes, loads of sweat,” says Louis. “It’s about two brothers who play basketball for their high school team.”

“Wonderful,” Nick says. “Shove over.”

Louis moves his feet and Nick sits down next to him.

“I suppose you should tell me about everyone else as well,” Nick says.

“Okay, that’s Haley and she is the love of Nathan’s life,” Louis says, pointing to a dark-haired girl on the telly. “Nathan and Haley end up being the epic romance of the whole show, strangely enough. Oh, and those two are Brooke and Peyton. They’re both in love with Lucas, the other brother, but Brooke is sort of petty and awful and tries to steal him even though she knows Peyton wants him.”

“But who does he want?” Nick asks.

“I don’t think he knows, but he should definitely be with Peyton.”

“I think Lucas is boring,” Nick says. “I’m rooting for Nathan and Haley. He’s tortured and moody and she’s smart and doesn’t take any shite off him. I enjoy a story about opposites attracting.” 

“You would,” Louis mutters.

Four episodes later, Nick breaks out a bottle of red wine and they argue over Louis’s terrible opinions about Brooke Davis.

“She only knows what she wants!” Nick says. “Ambition is sexy, Tomlinson.”

“I can’t believe you like Brooke and Nathan the best,” says Louis. “They’re the villains of the entire first season!”

“Villains are more interesting.”

Louis scoffs. “Says the bloke dating Harry Styles, who is literally the kindest person I have ever met and who might actually be sunshine in human form.”

“You only think he’s sweet because you’ve never fucked him,” Nick says. “He is _very_ ambitious.”

“Oh god, no,” Louis shouts. “Ew, please stop!” 

Nick starts laughing and can’t seem to stop, especially when Louis picks up the wine and starts chugging it straight from the bottle. 

“I do not need to hear about your sex life, mate,” he says when he comes up for air.

“I’m a bit disappointed Harry doesn’t go around bragging about it,” says Nick. “I thought that’s what lads do with each other.”

Louis looks horrified. “Do you do that with your friends?” he asks.

“Obviously,” Nick says. “I’m sleeping with an international pop star who is currently a member of the biggest boy band in the world. I talk about him every bloody chance I get.”

Louis gets a serious look on his face. He frowns at Nick for so long that the back of Nick’s neck begins to sweat. 

“What?” Nick asks.

“Harry told me to be nice,” Louis says, “but I just don’t get the two of you. I mean, you think he’s fit and all that, and he seems to amuse you from time to time, but I suppose I just don’t understand the appeal of a casual relationship.”

Nick doesn’t have a clue what the hell Louis is talking about. 

“What are you on about, mate? Harry and I aren’t casual.”

“Well, _he’s_ crazy about _you_ ,” says Louis. “But what are you doing? Are you just having a bit of fun or –”

Nick feels like he’s been slapped. To anyone who actually knows him it’s more than obvious Nick is absolutely over his head in love with Harry. He wandered into that completely foreign territory a little over two years ago and hasn’t been able to find his way out since – not that he’s been trying especially hard to escape. It never occurred to him that it might look differently to people who don’t know him, who don’t understand that Nick’s bitter sarcasm is just bluster, a way of covering up that Harry absolutely terrifies him.

“Oh god, is that why you’ve been so hostile?” Nick asks. “You think I don’t care about him?”

“I know you _care_ about him,” Louis says dismissively. “But I love him more than anyone. I will fight you if you break his heart, and I will win. You may be tall, but I am aggressive and have actual muscle tone.”

Nick ignores the dig at his lack of athleticism and instead focuses on the one part of Louis’s daft rambling that is actually important.

“Yeah, well, I’m in love with him,” Nick says.

“You’re in love with him,” Louis says skeptically.

“What the bloody hell do you think we’ve been doing the last two years?” Nick asks. “Messing about?”

“Well, yeah, sort of.” Louis says.

Nick huffs and rolls his eyes at how ridiculous the situation is. He’s positive he and Louis will never be the best of friends, but maybe if Louis understands what Harry really means to him, that Nick has no intention of hurting Harry -- or, more importantly, that he has no intention of leaving Harry in the foreseeable future -- they can come to some sort of truce.

“I’m not messing him about,” Nick says.

“Are you saying you’re in love like Lucas and Brooke, or like Nathan and Haley?” Louis says solemnly. “Answer wisely, Grimshaw.”

“Nathan and Haley,” Nick says without a pause.

Louis’s eyes get a bit misty and he hides his smile behind his hand, but he only says, “Right. Okay then.”

Nick is not going to get all mushy, but he thinks the answer he chose is quite fitting. He doesn’t imagine his relationship with Harry will always be easy, but he also doesn’t see a future that doesn't have Harry in it.

“I think we need another bottle of wine,” Nick says. “All this talking about feelings has sobered me right up.”

Louis agrees. As Nick gets up to grab another bottle from the kitchen, he thinks Louis finally gets it. Perhaps they have finally reached some kind of understanding, one that will allow them to coexist in Harry’s life.

Harry comes back an hour later to find Nick good and drunk. He and Louis are both a bit weepy over the first season finale of One Tree Hill.

“What’s all this then?” asks Harry.

“We’re bonding over One Tree Hill,” Louis says. “Nick is moved by Haley and Nathan’s grand romance.”

Nick thinks he sounds suspiciously sober and is a bit offended that Louis let him descend into such a state by himself.

“We were supposed to be drunk bonding, but somebody fell down on the job,” Nick says.

“Louis doesn't like red wine,” Harry says offhandedly. 

“Well, why didn't you say so?” Nick asks, hitting Louis across the chest. “I have all sorts of booze. I have more booze than I do food.”

“That’s true,” Harry says.

“I was trying to be nice,” says Louis.

“Nice people are rubbish,” Nick says,getting up from the sofa to stumble over and kiss Harry hello. “Except you, Harry. You’re nice and lovely and not rubbish at all.”

“All right,” Harry drawls. “Who are you and what have you done with Nick Grimshaw?”

Nick kisses him in answer and only pulls away when Louis clears his throat pointedly. Harry looks very flushed and embarrassed and Nick suddenly has all sorts of thoughts about getting him undressed to see if he can make Harry blush in other places as well.

“Louis, I’m glad we had this day of bonding,” Nick says. “You are welcome back any time you want to marathon One Tree Hill or pop in for tea or what have you, but Harry and I are going to need that sofa now, so please–” 

“Please stop,” Louis says, giving them a horrified look.

Harry buries his face in Nick’s chest and shakes with laughter.

“I’ll come back tomorrow for my DVDs,” Louis shouts as he heads for the door. “Don’t do anything disgusting with them -- or on them.”

Nick tackles Harry onto the sofa as soon as the door closes and kisses him until they’re both breathless and Harry is smiling up at him like a lunatic.

“Did you have a nice day?” Harry asks.

“I don’t think Louis and I will be plaiting each other’s hair anytime soon,” Nick says, “but he’s not so bad.”

“You like him,” Harry says knowingly.

“He’s the Lucas to my Nathan,” Nick says. “I’m going to start talking about all of my relationships in One Tree Hill metaphors.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It means we’re learning to like one another after a rocky start,” Nick says.

Harry laughs and pulls on Nick’s hair until Nick leans down and kisses him again.

“And what about me?” Harry asks. “Who am I in the world of One Tree Hill?”

Harry is funny and steady and probably the best person Nick has ever known and he’s managed to make Nick a better person despite himself. Nick’s so in love with him he can hardly breathe.

“That’s easy,” Nick says. “You’re my Haley.”


End file.
